Bite Me Softly

Chapter 10: Sacred Bond

The world felt louder.

Every sound scraped against my nerves; the squeal of sneakers on tile, the slam of lockers, the sharp laugh of someone two hallways over. My shoulder ached beneath the bandages I’d clumsily wrapped that morning, the wound hot and pulsing, like it didn’t want to be ignored.

I kept my head down and moved through the day like I was underwater.

Kade wasn’t in homeroom.

Or in the hallway between second and third period where I usually caught sight of him leaning against the wall like gravity didn’t apply to him.

Ryker wasn’t at lunch.

Neither of them were anywhere.

And yet… I felt them.

Or maybe not them, but something. A pressure behind my eyes. A tingling between my shoulder blades, like I was being watched. Not casually, not the way people glance at a new student. This was different. Heavier. Intentional.

I spun around more than once in the hallway, expecting to find someone staring.

There was never anyone there.

By the time the final bell rang, I couldn’t breathe fast enough.

I didn’t go home.

Instead, I slipped into the library before the rush of students could crowd the halls. It was nearly empty, the last rays of afternoon sunlight slanting through the tall windows, painting long stripes of gold across the floor. Dust danced in the light. The air smelled like worn pages and quiet.

I moved slowly, past the study cubicles, past the computers. I needed something real. Tangible. Something that couldn’t vanish with a swipe or hide behind Wi-Fi errors.

The “Folklore” section was tucked into the far corner. Old wooden shelves. Most of the books hadn’t been touched in years.

I found one with a cracked spine and no dust jacket North American Legends and Lycanthropy and slid it free. Another beside it. And another. My arms filled quickly, and I carried the stack to a corner table away from the windows, half-hidden from view.

I didn’t know what I was looking for. I just knew I had to find something.

I flipped through pages, skimming shaky illustrations and dramatic headlines. Half of it felt like fiction, dark forests, cursed bloodlines, silver bullets, but there were moments… paragraphs… that hit too close.

Werewolves born, not made, retain more of their humanity. Turned wolves struggle to maintain control, especially after their first full moon.

The bite does not always change you, but when it does, the body responds quickly. Heightened senses, temperature spikes, pain at nightfall.

The connection between wolf and victim is unpredictable. Sometimes a bond is formed. Sometimes a break. Sometimes, a war.

My fingers shook.

I pressed my palm to the table to still it, but my heart didn’t listen. It thudded in my chest like a warning. My hoodie stuck to my back, damp with cold sweat. The ache in my shoulder had spread, not just pain now but heat, pressure, like something restless curled beneath my skin.

I wanted to believe none of this was real. That this was some elaborate prank. A shared delusion.

But the bite was still fresh. The look on Kade’s face was still burned behind my eyelids. That wild, broken expression. The way he’d held himself back. The way he’d bitten me anyway.

And now, he was gone. Just… gone.

I stared at the page in front of me without reading it. My thoughts were too loud.

What was I supposed to do?

Tell my aunt I got attacked by a werewolf on the walk home? Walk into a clinic and ask them to check for supernatural infections?

I closed the book, the sound far too loud in the quiet room.

I didn’t have answers.

I didn’t even know what questions to ask.

But something was happening to me.

And I couldn’t run from it.

Not anymore.

The sun had dipped behind the trees by the time I stepped out of the library, and the world had turned to shadow. Gold bled into purple across the sky, and the last rays of light painted the pavement in long, trembling lines. I wrapped my arms around myself, chilled not just by the breeze but by the silence. The kind of silence that crawled under your skin and whispered that something had changed.

All day, I had kept my head down. No Kade. No Ryker. The absence of them should have felt like relief, but it didn’t. It felt like a warning. Like the air was holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

I walked slower than usual, taking the long way past the fields and the old bleachers near the tree line. My footsteps crunched over gravel, loud in the hush.

Then I stopped.

He was there.

I didn’t see him at first, not clearly. Just a shape leaning against the far side of the bleachers, mostly hidden in the growing dark. Still. Watching. Waiting.

But I knew it was him.

“Kade,” I said, barely louder than my own heartbeat.

He didn’t respond.

I took a step forward. Then another. Something in me trembled, but I kept moving, like I had no choice. Like the pull between us wouldn’t let me turn away.

He stepped out of the shadows slowly.

The fading light caught on his face, and I froze.

He looked wrecked. His skin was too pale, his eyes sunken and bruised with exhaustion. There were healing scratches along his jaw, angry marks peeking above the collar of his hoodie. His shoulders slumped like he hadn’t slept in days, like he was holding up a world that wanted to collapse on top of him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low and broken.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said.

“Because I needed to,” he replied. “Because if I saw you, I wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

My breath caught. I stepped closer.

“Well, that didn’t work out so well, did it?”

His mouth twitched like he might smile, but didn’t. Instead, he turned his face away, eyes fixed on the horizon. His hands were stuffed into his pockets like he was trying to keep them from shaking.

“I hurt you,” he said.

“Yes,” I answered.

Silence pressed between us.

“I didn’t want to,” he added. “I tried everything to stop it.”

“But you didn’t,” I said, not to accuse him, but because the truth mattered.

He flinched. “No. I didn’t.”

“I’ve been trying to understand what’s happening to me,” I said. “I’ve read things. Things hidden in old books at the back of the library. None of it makes sense. Not really.”

“I didn’t want you dragged into this.”

“But I am,” I said. “So stop pretending you can protect me by pretending I don’t exist.”

He finally looked at me then. Really looked.

His eyes were soft gold in the last light, not glowing, not wild. Just tired. Haunted.

“I was trying to protect you before I even knew your name,” he said.

“That’s not your choice to make.”

Another pause. He looked away again, jaw clenched tight.

“You don’t understand what you’re becoming,” he whispered.

My heart pounded. “Then help me understand.”

“I don’t even understand all of it truely,” he said. “What I did… it changed you. I can feel it. I can feel you.”

Something in me stilled.

“You can feel me?”

“It’s like a thread,” he said. “Like part of me is tied to you now. And I don’t know if that’s a gift or a curse.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Because even now, even after everything, I didn’t want to run from him.

I wanted to run to him.

But there was fear too. Of what it meant. Of what I might become. Of what I might lose.

He stepped closer, slowly. “You have every right to hate me.”

“I don’t.”

His eyes met mine again. “Then what do you feel?”

I swallowed hard. The wind moved between us, stirring leaves, carrying the faint scent of smoke and pine and something else I couldn’t name. Something only tied to him.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

He reached out, hesitated, then let his fingers brush against mine. Just enough to make my breath hitch. His hand was warm, steady, trembling ever so slightly.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he said, softer now. “But I’m glad you do.”

For a moment, I forgot the pain. The bite. The fear.

There was only him. And the space between us that didn’t feel like space at all.

“I’m scared,” I said.

“So am I,” he admitted.

But neither of us moved.

The light above the field flickered once, then went dark. We stood together in the blue silence, wrapped in all the things we didn’t say.